


RWBY RS WEEK

by rwbyfics



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi, rwbyrsweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwbyfics/pseuds/rwbyfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy rwbyrsweek! I'll be updating Sunday-Saturday with a new pairing every day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blake flicked through her Scroll, squinting at the screen as she made her way through the library’s aisles. The recommended book list that she downloaded the night before seemed to have reverted to four point font with every other word italicized into near oblivion.

“C’mon, you useless piece of shit, work …” Blake grumbled, trying desperately to maximize the screen as best as she could after getting her eighth error message in a row. Stubbornness was a trait that she’d yet to grow out of.

“Excuse me?”

Blake looked up, eyes wide in surprise before meeting eyes with a girl pulling down gold-rimmed aviators down the bridge of her nose. Her gaze was commanding and critical, the gaze of a girl who had been born a leader.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I was talking to this - ” Blake gestured down at her Scroll dismissively. “- not you.” The girl’s eyes lost their cold edges, and she tilted her head at Blake before pushing her sunglasses higher up her head, taking a blonde tipped ringlet along with it towards her ear.

“Lemme see that.” Kidskin glovelets brushed across the backs of Blake’s hands as she took the Scroll from her. Her touch was sturdy and assured, the leather stretched along her hands sleek enough to leave behind a wake of thin goosebumps along Blake’s skin.

The other girl’s long fingers tapped around on the luminescent screen, and Blake took notice of her groomed nails, cut short and lacquered a sheer pale color. In seconds, the reading list’s font was adapted to the display monitor and all of the book titles were neatly arranged in ornate bullet point. The girl handed the Scroll back to Blake, decidedly pleased before smiling with half of her mouth.

Blake looked at her, past all of her domineering airs and the way she stood square on her feet like a goddess and the broad hand on her corseted waist. She took notice of the fat gold flecks simmering in her eyes and the playful angle of her mouth. Underneath the bravado, there was a thin layer of sportive teasing directed towards Blake.

“Thanks.”

She shrugged. “The Adel Association helped figure out the new software for those bad boys. It’s still in its beta though, so it’s the least I can do for a citizen in need.” The sentence was punctuated with a flippant little salute, sarcastic enough to coax a smile out of Blake, drolly eager enough to amuse even the other girl.  

“Do you work for them?”

Coco smiled at that, teeth sharp against the pale line of her mouth.

“Something like that. I’m Coco.”

“Blake.”

Coco arched a neat brow and shifted on her feet to cross her arms along her chest. Her stance was angled and broad, the treads of her combat boots seated heavily on the library’s old carpet.

“So, you’re that Blake. Velvet’s told me a lot about your team.” The knowing look on Coco’s face sent bone deep embarrassment sinking into the pit of Blake’s stomach like an anchor.

“Contrary to popular belief, we did not set a forest on fire.” Coco tugged her beret closer down to her brow and stayed silent until the quiet became interrogative. Blake paused to reconsider. “Actually, I think that did happen.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Coco gestured broadly with her right hand. “You know, when Velvet was still new in her mage apprenticeship, she set my hair on fire. It was the textbook definition of a clusterfuck.”

Blake raised her brows.

“I’m sure she spent two months apologizing profusely.”

“Six, actually. But she’s from Vacuo, what do you expect?”

Blake laughed aloud, pressing her hands to her smile in an attempt to conceal it. Coco returned her smile and would’ve held it if the hour hadn’t ticked over and the grandfather clock in the library hummed a sharp reprimand. Her grin fell and she cursed loudly.

“Shit! I was supposed to meet Yatsuhashi at the campus fountain ten minutes ago.” Coco’s mouth pursed in agitation before catching eyes with Blake again. “I’ve gotta go, but hey, I’ll see you around.” She didn’t pose it as a question, and somehow, Blake knew that she was going to see Coco again sometime soon, whether she liked it or not.

Coco took off towards the exit before twisting midstride to walk backwards.

“Third Crusade’s the only one worth reading on that whole list, by the way. Only one worth being read by a pretty girl like you.” Blake stood in shock and watched as Coco stalked out, pausing at the door.

Coco tipped the edge of her sunglasses down to reveal her left eye and winked saucily before shoving the door open with her hip and disappearing into a doorway of light. Blake laughed to herself before making her way over to the library clerk.

“Would you mind finding me a copy of Third Crusade, please?”

… and a lover’s kiss will taste like honey, sticky down your fingers, like a happy laugh.

Blake closed the cover of Third Crusade and stared down at the book for a long moment. It had been one of the shorter books that she had read, but managed to pull her in its sparse, minimalistic span of words.

Spring cleaning in Team RWBY’s dorm had left Blake without anything to do; her five possessions were dusted off and rearranged while Yang and Ruby unearthed relics from their childhood with added running commentary. (“It’s my old stuffed animal!” “Whoa, I remember throwing up on that!” “Aw, Jesus, you couldn’t have told me that before I stuck my face in it?!”

The weather was mild, so Blake had perched on the campus fountain to finish the last few chapters of her book. Blake looked down at the author biography and skimmed it, barely taking interest at the filler words.

The writer currently resides in Menagerie, researching Faunus civil rights for her next book. Blake widened her eyes. Faunus civil rights were never written about unless an entire section of town had been destroyed by rioters or the White Fang. Menagerie was in a year round state of political unrest, and yet no one chose to discuss what was happening there.

“... and as your team captain, I’m telling you that we’re all gonna get shit faced tonight. That’s an order.” Blake looked up and blinked in surprise at Coco and her team making a slow path across Beacon’s courtyard. She walked in front, and her gait was challenging and self assured.

“It’s Thursday night, Coco! We have class the next morning, and the last time we tried to train hungover, you almost bit my head off.” Velvet protested. Coco waved away her concerns with an errant hand.

“You worry too much. Think of it as pregaming for the club opening that Yatsuhashi got us tickets for this weekend.” Velvet rolled her eyes but stayed quiet. “Besides, I need to get tipsy before I go talk to - ” Coco caught sight of Blake and paused. “Wait here.”

Coco walked towards Blake, holding her gaze all the while. Blake set the book to her side and waited. “I told you we’d see each other again.” Coco glanced down at Blake’s book and pointed to it. “Was I right, or was I right?”

“You were right. It was incredible.” Coco smiled, all gleaming white teeth and sly interest. “And the writing style… I don’t think there’s anything like it.” Coco pushed her sunglasses to perch atop her beret and nodded slowly.

“I’m glad you weren’t scandalized by the smut in some of the chapters.” Blake shrugged at Coco's comment. “Some people get so turned off by bondage.” Coco gave a cheeky smile. “They’re not my kind of people.”

The color that rose in Blake’s cheeks was involuntary, and she became hyper aware of how hot her skin felt under Coco’s steady gaze. She looked down for a moment and laughed under her breath.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Depends on who’s doing the tying.”

Coco’s wit surprised Blake. She was sharp, and nothing seemed to get past her. Blake liked her perceptiveness and how she cut her eyes across everything like she was burning it into her memory.

Blake shook her head.

“You’re ridiculous.” Coco laughed aloud.

“See, if you were doing the tying, I wouldn’t put up a fight.” She looked Blake up and down. “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

“What are you trying to say?” Blake asked suddenly. Coco’s double entendre had been abandoned in a second for blatant flirting, and she wasn’t sure to make of it.

Coco sighed. “You can read and comprehend a book as confusing as Third Crusade but you can’t read any signs? I’m attracted to you, Blake. I think that we’d do well together.” Blake opened her mouth to speak but Coco cut her off. “And I especially think that I want you in my room every night this week.”

Blake lifted her chin up towards Coco.

“I don’t suppose that we’ll be talking much when I’m in your room.” Coco cradled Blake’s chin in her palm, thumbed along the dip of her skin. She smiled slyly, leaned down a bit.

“Depends if you’re into pillow talk or not.”

When Coco leaned down the rest of the way to kiss Blake, it was softer than the Faunus had expected. It was cautious in all the right ways, but when her tongue mapped a tentative path along the hood of Blake’s mouth, she parted her lips willingly. Coco pulled away, eyes half-closed, still smiling.

“Room 409 in the West Building. Meet me there in an hour and we can put this ribbon to good use.” Coco wrapped her hand along Blake’s right forearm and kissed the back of her hand before turning to meet back up with her team.

Blake laughed under her breath and shook her head. She had no idea what she was getting herself into; besides the fact that Coco’s touch was electric and sweet enough to savor, she had an hour to mentally prepare herself for fucking in Dr. Oobleck’s office.

 


	2. Cinder/Glynda

_Have you ever played with fire?_

Glynda presses her palms against the flat of Cinder's shoulder blades, shudders when the other woman wraps her hands across the nape of her neck. It should scare her, the way that Cinder reaches around like a vinous snake to touch her, like she's addicted, like it's wrong.

After all, nothing that feels this good is right. Glynda’s been alive long enough to know that there’s a sacrifice for every sin, a burden for every bullet.

Cinder feels like smoke and nothingness between Glynda's fingertips; she feels like she isn't real. So Glynda makes her real, sinks her teeth into every part of Cinder, bruises her up until there's orchids and coals on the insides of her thighs, and a garden of black blooms along the stride of her waist.

When it's all over, and Cinder lays there, smiling through bloody, painted teeth, Glynda wonders if Cinder knows everything about her. She wonders if Cinder thinks that she’s wrong. She wants to tell Cinder that she's not angry at her - she was never angry at her - she's angry at herself for giving into her biggest vice every single time.

* * *

 

_Have you ever done something you regretted?_

Cinder runs her fingers through her hair. Glynda notes the strands separating and realigning when her long nails disappear from blackwater, just like the ocean tide, breaking and repairing itself all over.

She should be paying attention in class. That's what she should be doing, not staring at this other girl across the room, who has eyes like the amber beads on her grandmother's rosary, hard and sharp and pretty enough to make her feel like she's wrong about everything.

She should be paying attention in class.

Should is a funny word though, should is a word full of regret and disappointment, but somehow, Glynda doesn't want to protect herself from its judgmental sting this time around - she wants to stare at Cinder Fall until she can find out what it is about her that keeps her from thinking straight.

* * *

 

_Have you ever felt Sin press its fingers against the roof of your mouth?_

"Goodwitch! Wait up!" Cinder calls after Glynda as class lets up. Glynda slows down and lets Cinder catch next up to her in the empty hallway. Glynda's far taller, but she feels small next to Cinder, and the vague shape of her body in her periphery feels like a blur, a faint press of her arms Cinder's.

"What is it?"

Cinder raises her brows, just a knee jerk reaction to Glynda's piercing gaze settling on her.

"I saw you looking at me today in class." She revels in the heat flooding through Glynda's cheeks. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

Cinder doesn't give Glynda a chance to stutter or blush, and pins the blonde against a locker, her wrist trapped under a cage of Cinder's sharp nails.

"Because there's something I want to say to you."

Glynda's breath heaves, and she looks down at Cinder, who presses her chest against Glynda's like a cat in heat.

"W-What is it?"

Cinder licks her lips, and Glynda wonders how they stay scarlet all the time, like there's blood on her mouth.

"It isn't really something you can put into words… you know?" Her voice unravels into a purr, and she strokes her hand up Glynda's side. Glynda strains against Cinder's grasp, but her slight frame is deceiving; she was stronger than she looked.

Their eyes meet, and Glynda clamps down on her lower lip with her teeth, hoping to wake herself from whatever fucked up dream she's having.

Cinder smiles.

"I'll show you."

She seals her mouth across Glynda's, swallows down her first cry of surprise when she sucks at the bundle of capillaries at the blonde's lower lip, nibbles at them until blood passes between their kisses.

Glynda reads into every kiss - each one feels different, with different intention and emotion. She reaches for Cinder's cheek, thumbs across it with her finger, shakily the first time, then more assured the second.

Cinder chuckles under her breath, parts her mouth to let the sound escape, soft and breathy. She pushes closer to Glynda, twists her fingers into the blonde's and kisses down her neck.

Cinder's mouth presses slow, wet kisses across Glynda's skin, and every vein that she passes tightens, drawn taut with anticipation. When teeth slip just under the collar of her blouse, hook at the top button and clip into her bones, Glynda arches with a soft pant.

"Why are you doing this?" She asks stiltedly, shutting her eyes.

Cinder pauses, and when Glynda looks down at her, she seems to be caught a crossroads before shifting down onto her knees, shaking her head a bit regretfully.

"You talk too much."

* * *

 

_… What keeps you coming back?_

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Glynda whispers into the silence, and she hates how her voice falters. She can’t even convince herself. She’s too old to be making the same mistakes over and over again and too young to be forgiven for them. Starting as a Professor at Beacon was supposed to bring a new start for her, a way for her to stop licking at old wounds.

Cinder doesn’t even look like she’s heard what Glynda’s said as she slips on her catsuit. The inked patterns wrapped along her ribcage disappear one at a time, feather and flame covered by a rising sea of black leather.

“You and I both know that you’re lying between your teeth right now.” Cinder purrs. She takes a step towards the bed and grits her teeth, grips her hip with a hand and groans. “Fuck, you couldn’t have gone easy on me tonight?”

Glynda pulls the sheets across her cold skin, closes her eyes. She wants to disappear so that she won’t feel pinned under Cinder’s hollow gaze. It’s like she’s trapped whenever they’re together, and she’s breathing shallow water that manages to fill her lungs and none of the other holes in her soul that could use repair.

“We have to stop. I can’t do this.”

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can’t do, Glynda.” Cinder’s voice rings out, teasing and gentle. “But you’ll come back. I know that you will. You and I, we’re meant to be. And we’ll break each other. The question is… who’ll shatter first?” She smiles with too many teeth, predatory. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

“Let me go. Why can’t you just let me leave?” Glynda’s voice is small in the room, cowardly and cold like a wet breeze.

“Because I’m not keeping you.” Cinder snaps suddenly. Her eyes glow, flinty and sharp enough to cut through stone. She seems to have surprised even herself, and relaxes instantly, limbs languid and easy smile returning to the cruel curve of her mouth.

“I’m not keeping you.” Cinder repeats the phrase, and it becomes real, just real as when Glynda imprisons Cinder under her fingers, cups her hands around black smoke and breathes it in.

Cinder slips across the room and perches on the windowsill before swinging out the glass panes. Shards of moonlight crisscross across her face and throw a thin net of silver links along her black hair. She’s an image that transcends past anything normal, and the smile peeking through her teeth is all knowing.

When Cinder angles her head and stares straight at Glynda, she finally realizes that should isn’t a word of regret or disappointment, it’s a word that people use when they’re scared that they’ve made all the wrong decisions in life. She _should_ have paid attention in class when she still had the chance to look away, she _should_ have pushed Cinder away, she _should_ know better by now.

“You know how to find me, Glynda.” Cinder flings herself from the windowsill, down into the night like a black cat, and leaves Glynda behind with nothing but the feeling after receiving a bad omen.

 


	3. Junior/Sun

Junior tipped an amber bottle of tequila upside down, effectively draining the last drops it had to offer into a greasy shot glass. Spring break had hit downtown Vale like a god damn thunder storm, and college kids looking to get drunk were stumbling around the club, trying to escape the circle jerk that was bar economy.

Buy a drink, dance it off, look for water, buy another drink, either on accident or have your sugar daddy buy it for you, rinse and repeat.

Closing hours had been extended till the early morning since Cinder still wanted another form of cash revenue to keep her afloat while she gathered Dust with that Torchwick dick. Junior huffed and puffed about it, but he really didn’t mind, as long as his boys kept an eye on the crowd and nobody tried to run from a hefty tab.

(Melanie and Militia usually took care of that, but they didn’t like to be interrupted while they were socializing.)

Junior tossed the empty bottle behind him and shoved the shot down the slick bar, hoping that someone down there was paying enough attention to catch it. Just as he was sure that it would slip off the edge of the counter, a blonde Faunus tail swept out and caught it.

It was a dexterous feat, and Junior appreciated the fact that there would be one less mess to clean up at the end of the night. The Faunus stepped closer to the bar, and glanced down at the drink curiously. His tail was longer than most of the animal appendages that Junior had seen before, and it coiled around the glass a good four times before swaying teasingly.

“Does this mean I can drink this now?”

The kid was young looking, but the toothy smile that he flashed without any precedent was winsome enough that he probably got into clubs without any hold up. Junior figured that the fact that he refused to button his white shirt, leaving his chest and defined torso in full view, probably helped too.

“Depends. Are you gonna pay for it?” Junior mixed a drink in record time, grabbed a lemon and peeled the rind into a beaming curlicue for a garnish. He’d gotten a shit review on Yelp after forgetting to add some accessory to his drinks, and Cinder hadn’t been the least bit pleased.

The Faunus kid spread his hands in the air and made a face.

“I just stopped this glass from shattering, and kept some good booze from going to waste. I’d say that I deserve it free of charge.” He grinned at Junior, who remained stoic while he settled someone’s tab and shoved the change in the tip jar without asking. “Oh, come on, big boy. I’m a lot more fun when I’m drunk.”

His tone switched to something more playful and flirtatious. Lord, that shouldn’t be doing things for Junior, but it kind of was. Junior looked up from the line of shots that he was prepping for a few bachelorettes in the corner, fixed his gaze on the kid. He was blonde, a good height, and had a bone deep tan. It was visible even in the dark club, and it was ultimately distracting, all of the skin that he kept bare. Junior shook his head and kept working.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Sun.” He answered immediately. Junior raised his brows. This kid didn’t even have the proper decency to give a fake name, or at least keep his guard up around a stranger. He seemed to be painfully honest, something that was both pretty admirable and kind of stupid. “But you can call me kid, if that’s what you’re into.”

There it was again. Sun’s voice dipped into a lower register, and the seductive trill he added to his words smacked Junior upside the head with as much force as a jarring uppercut. The Faunus’s dark grey eyes glimmered, satisfied; he knew that he’d gotten Junior right where he wanted him.

“You’re a piece of work, kid.” One of Junior’s men came to pick up the tray of shots and carted it off towards the booth, leaving the bartender idle for a second. He scratched his beard, cursed at his own stupidity, and ran his hands under the tap. Sun cocked his head interestedly.

“I knew it! You’re a daddy kink guy, aren’t you?” Junior sputtered at Sun for a moment, but the blonde just steamrolled on. “That’s pretty hot.” He flashed his teeth again and they gleamed, nearly luminescent in the odd lighting.

“You got a name?”

“What’s it to you?” Junior gruffed, adjusted his tie and got to work on pulling a few drafts for the couple on the other side of the bar, snapping their fingers at him. Sun rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play hard to get, babe.” Sun slammed the shot, still holding it with his tail, and grinned when Junior glared at him across the bar. Junior turned his back for a moment, reached up and retrieved a new glass that had less thumbprints smudging its rim.

“I don’t flirt with _kids_.”

“I’m older than I look.” Sun replied smoothly, spinning the empty shot glass on his tail, almost idly. He crossed his arms over his chest, muscle rippling under tanned skin long enough to catch Junior’s eye. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t cut out dude bros from the flirting equation right?”

“And how old is that?” Junior shot back, purposefully ignoring Sun’s question while passing two beers down the bar. He flexed his palms; the rush was making his fingers cramp up.

“Old enough to get in this club without getting on my knees first.” Sun said easily, simian tail shifting. He stopped messing with the shot glass and set it on the bar, tapped it with two broad fingers. “Fill me up, buttercup.”

Junior picked it up grudgingly. “You’re paying for this one.” He grumbled, but passed it to Sun. Sun lifted the tequila towards Junior, and tipped back his second shot of the night. He took it like a champ, but Junior knew that Faunus had a higher tolerance than humans. It’d take almost double the amount of liquor to get this kid drunk than a normal blonde frat boy.

“Your tabs already at 60 dollars, kid.” Junior said, and Sun almost spits out his tequila.

“ _Sixty dollars?!_ ”

“You’re drinking the good shit right there.” Junior picked up the bottle, pressed his finger to the label. “Says here that it was made by monks in Atlas.”

Sun slumped against the bar miserably.

“I thought monks only made wine.”

Junior shrugged carelessly and put the bottle back under the counter. “It’s Atlas; they do everything different over there just because they can.” Sun stayed morose, looking defeated. “Look, kid, why the hell would you come to a bar if you weren’t expecting to pay this kind of money?”

Sun shifted on his feet, put his chin in his hands.

“People usually buy my drinks for me!” Sun cried. Junior snorted despite himself, shook his head. “Dude, this - ” Sun pointed at his face. “ - is what got me and my friends shots every time that we went out last year.”

“Congratulations on your face. Now, cash or credit card?” Junior pulled his Scroll closer to him and brought up his payment application. Sun seemed to shrink in on himself and sighed.

“Can’t I pay you… some other way?” Sun waggled his eyebrows and Junior paused. He set down his Scroll with a pronounced click and brought the bottle of tequila out again. After pouring a measured shot and setting it in front of Sun, he placed his palms on the bar and looked the kid in the eye.

“What is this?” Sun asked.

“I’m buying you a shot, kid.”

Sun opened his mouth to question Junior, but he cut him off.

“You’re gonna turn down free tequila? Drink up, dumbass.” Junior barked. Sun obliged, wiped his mouth on his arm and chuckled. “The name’s Junior.” Sun smiled at Junior, lips turning up at the corners slyly.

“Junior.” Sun rolled the name in his mouth. “I like that. Small name for a big guy though. Are you a big guy?” Junior chuckled, and returned Sun’s grin for the first time during the entire night.

A group of girls crowded a section of the bar, already pawing through their giant purses to find their IDs. Junior sighed and hooked his dish towel over his shoulder. Before he left, he tipped another shot into Sun’s glass.

“I get off at four.”

“Is this gonna be a booty call?”

“I haven’t seen your ass yet, but if you play your cards right, it will be.”

Sun smirked at Junior and passed his tongue across his mouth. He drank his last shot of tequila and disappeared into the crowd, blending into the mass of bodies and black hair, only to appear silhouetted in blazing blue light across the room. Junior smiled to himself, and walked over to take more orders.

 


	4. Malachite Twins/Emerald

When it happened, Emerald didn’t really know what to make of it.

She hadn’t even wanted to go backstage, but Cinder had sent her to check on the twins and give them their five minute warning. Melanie and Miltia came into the VIP area every hour or so to pour drinks and socialize, with just enough time gapping their appearances to make it seem spontaneous.

Emerald ducked behind the idiot in the bear costume, barely missing a hand to the face as he tried to wrangle the mask off of his head, and made her way down the corridor of dressing rooms. Most of them were undecorated, stark black lacquer doors lining the narrow hall, but Emerald stopped at the one with a newspaper clipping emblazoned on it: “A New York la pop art di Alborghetti”, and opened the door.

Looking back, Emerald wonders why she didn’t knock like a normal human being.

Emerald supposed that she was close enough with the twins that she could get away without knocking once; anyone else would have probably gotten their face kicked in with a pair of lucite bladed heels.

“Hey, you two are up in - ”

A loud, lilting moan stopped Emerald in her tracks, and she stood, frozen in the doorway of a dressing room, watching as Melanie lifted her head from where it was buried between her sister’s thighs. Miltia’s eyes fluttered, pale green irises dimming behind a fan of false lashes.

Melanie kicked her legs over the edge of the couch that she lay on and smiled at Emerald, lips parted slyly. Miltia soothed her hand through Melanie’s hair, shifted her hips, a silent reminder that there was something more important at hand. They didn’t even seem to care that Emerald had caught them half-naked and fucking, and all she could do was stand there and stare like an idiot.

“We’ll be there in five minutes.” Melanie said sweetly. Her fingers disappeared behind the view of couch cushions and Miltia arched violently, nearly sitting up all the way. A breathy whine punched out of the highest place in her lungs, and Emerald caught view of the pale skin below the red and black feather necklace at her breasts.

Melanie’s hands stretched possessively across Miltia’s soft stomach, and the look in her eye when she turned towards Emerald gave her shivers, teeth gleaming in the bright lights.

“Make that ten.” Miltia grit out through clenched teeth, muscles drawn taut enough that her collarbones cut through her skin. Melanie coaxed another whimpering sigh out of Miltia, and Emerald stammered something in the vein of an apology and slammed the door, panting in panic.

* * *

 

“Are you alright, Emerald? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Cinder sipped at her wine glass, eyes shimmering in the blue-black light of the club. Emerald paled. She shook her head and poured herself a glass of wine, drank half of it in one go and passed her hand along the glass stem.

Emerald felt weak all over, and half wished that she had seen a ghost. God knew that a ghost probably wouldn’t have made her want to run off to the bathroom and get off on a memory burned into her mind.

* * *

 

“I don’t understand how we got stuck with clean up duty.” Mercury groaned, doing a half-ass job of wiping down a beer glass. Emerald rolled her eyes and snatched it from him to finish up his job. Junior had dipped out early without bothering to tidy up the bar, and Mercury and Emerald had been shoved behind the counter.

“I want to go home.”

Emerald smacked Mercury upside the head with her dishrag, impatient with his complaining.

“The faster you finish, the faster you can go home, dumbass.” Emerald swept lemon rinds into the trashcan and tied off the plastic bag. She shoved it at him. “Go toss this outside.” Mercury blew out a breath, ruffling the silver spikes of his fringe, but trudged towards the door anyways.

Emerald tossed the dishrag into the sink and ran a hand through her hair, pulling a thin section of pale green hair over her shoulder. She had tried to keep her mind off of the incident with the twins earlier in the night, but she kept dazing back to the hollow spaces between Miltia’s collarbones when she arched into Melanie’s slim fingers.

“Thought you would’ve gone home already.”

Emerald jumped and sighed when she caught sight of Melanie and Miltia across the room, arms crossed tightly across their chests. Emerald licked her lips and gestured to the array of clean glasses behind her.

“Junior skipped out with a Faunus kid. I had to stay late.”

Melanie and Miltia advanced, each stride calculated and smooth on towering, six inch heels. The blades on Melanie’s caught in the half lights like diamonds, the counterparts to the caged claws on the backs of Miltia’s hands.

“About tonight.” Miltia started and slid into a bar stool.

“Liked what you saw?” Melanie finished her sentence. Her thick lashes stretched towards her bangs as she stared at Emerald squarely. Emerald looked down at her hands and licked the roof of her mouth; it felt far too dry all of a sudden.

“T-That was an accident, and I’m really sorry - I didn’t mean to interrupt - ”

“It was pretty hot.” Miltia purred, effectively cutting of Emerald’s string of nonsense. Emerald’s head snapped up to meet eyes with Miltia, who looked unapologetic. Miltia tilted her head thoughtfully and sat up on her knees, reaching over the bar to cup Emerald’s cheek. “Look at you. You get so spazzy when you’re nervous.”

Melanie snorted.

“We can’t tell if you’re freaking out because you feel bad or because you thought it was hot, and it’s kind of pissing us off.” Miltia hummed in agreement, passed her finger along the seam of Emerald’s mouth. “So what the hell is it?”

Emerald closed her eyes. The silence became suffocating, and Melanie lost her patience first, growling under her breath.

“Maybe she needs a refresher course, Miltia.” Her voice was barbed, annoyance clear in each lilt of the syllables. Miltia’s hand withdrew from Emerald’s cheek, and she turned to face her twin, lips split into a Cheshire grin.

Melanie reached for the base of Miltia’s neck and pulled her close. The kiss was dirty, wet tongues flicking against lips and teeth sinking into soft skin. Miltia moaned when Melanie fisted her hand into her hair and tugged. Miltia’s hands clenched at the front of Melanie’s dress, knuckles strained and white.

When they pulled away, panting, flushed, half-giggling, Emerald was at a loss for words. Miltia thumbed at a drop of blood on her bottom lip, and leaned forward onto the bar on her elbows.

“Thoughts?”

Emerald lunged across the bar and slanted her mouth across Miltia’s, slipping her tongue between full lips and running along the backs of her front teeth. Melanie laughed and pulled Emerald away to steal a kiss as well, thumbs pressing firmly at the base of her jaw.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Melanie panted triumphantly between kisses. Miltia mapped a few kisses along Emerald’s collar, up towards her neck, teased her fingers at the waist of her trousers.

“Hey, Emerald, when’s trash day again - ”

Melanie turned towards Mercury, eyes flashing dangerously bright.

“Scram, kid.” She hissed, uncrossing her legs to bring attention to the blades climbing the backs of her heels. “While you still have the choice.”

Mercury backed out and took off, slamming the door behind him. Emerald broke away from Miltia to catch her breath, and laughed under her breath.

“Hey,” Miltia tipped her finger under Emerald’s chin. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Preferably somewhere that has a door with a lock.”

 


	5. Sun/Yang

Yang shoved the door to her dorm room open, huffing a loud breath as she threw her bag across the room. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, wrapping a thin strand at the base of the hair tie. There was a slow moment when she caught her breath and paused, turning towards the other side of the room slowly.

“Hey, blonde buddy.” Sun waved from where he sat cross legged on the carpet, a bottle of vodka cradled between his palms. “How’s it hanging?” Yang shouted in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air.

“God damn it, Sun! What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sun shook the bottle and grinned. “I thought that team RWBY and I could hang around and get a little drunk. And then maybe I could find out why Blake can’t stand my guts.” Yang ran a hand down her face.

“Sorry to disappoint, buddy, but RWB is out on the town, or something.” Yang pulled off her blazer and hung it up across the back of a chair. “And Blake can’t stand your guts because she’s sapphic as fuck.”

Sun sat straight up and cocked his head.

“Wait, what?”

Yang turned back to Sun and sighed.

“Too hetero for her.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that before I tried to woo her?” Sun cried, looking hurt. “I trusted you! We’re blonde buddies!”

“Look, Sun, what’s this about?” Yang heaved down at her the foot of her bed, feeling tired of running around in circles. “Girls aren’t really your forte anyways. I thought you preferred bananas.” Sun ducked his head in shame. “You wanna get drunk, buddy? We can have some fun.” Yang waggled her brows.

Sun put up his hands, looking slightly frightened.

“Too hetero for me.”

* * *

 

“So, why are you so obsessed with Blake, dude? God knows that girls are so much harder to deal with than guys. Guys are so much chiller. It’s just suck and fuck and get high and then do the whole thing over again.” Yang rolled around on the ground, reaching out for the vodka bottle and taking her sixth swig of the hour.

Sun snatched the bottle from Yang with his tail and drank two shots in one go. “I dunno, I guess… she’s just the first Faunus girl that I’ve met. And I feel like we get each other, you know?”

Yang cackled. “You two have less in common than an Ursi Major and a house cat do.” She pulled her hair out of her face, cheeks flushed bright red. “And if the only reason why you’re going for Blake is because she’s a Faunus - the exact thing that she hates most about herself - then you’re not gonna get anywhere, bubz.”

Sun gawped.

“And she’s so much more than a Faunus, Sun. She’s smart and loving and beautiful and witty and sweet and so much god damn better than all of those stereotypes of Faunus that you see around.”

Sun sat up, finger raised.

“You like Blake!”

“W-What? No, I don’t, t-that’s ridiculous - ” Yang sat up to mirror Sun, pushing her palm against her temple.

“You do! You do like her, you’re head over fucking heels! You also helped me realize that I’m incredibly gay, but you’re really fuckin’ gay too!” Sun shoved Yang’s shoulder drunkenly, laughing into his elbow.

“Shut up, you dick! And who are you to talk? When we first met, I thought that you were fucking Neptune and flirting with Blake to make that blue-haired idiot jealous.” Yang shoved Sun back. The Faunus boy paled, and Yang took notice, looking at him through squinted eyes.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Sun cupped the bottle between his two hands and guzzled vodka down with his eyes closed, pouting heavily when Yang snatched it away from him. “Don’t be so mean to meeeeeeeee.” Yang patted Sun’s hair slowly, pulling him under her arm into a softer version of a headlock.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe boys are worse.” Yang said sadly.

“They are!” Sun whined, rubbing his eyes. “Neptune confuses the shit out of me. He goes and flirts with Weiss, after cuddling with me the night before. He’s really good at cuddling.” Sun curled up into a ball, putting his head in Yang’s lap. Yang carded her fingers through his hair, humming to herself.

“I know, sweetie, I know. It’s gonna be okay. Why don’t you go out tonight? You can find someone to hook up with, come back to the dorm late at night with hickies and messed up hair, and strike the fear of God into Neptune’s shriveled little heart.” Yang said softly. Sun stared up at Yang, eyes watering. “You’re a real sweetheart, Sun. You’ve got to find someone who can appreciate you, alright?”

“Why do you have to be gay, Yang? We could probably rule the world together with our combined hotness. Our children would have golden DNA.” Sun sniffled.

“Too bad we’re both gay.” Yang said dryly. “Hey, if we’re both single in twenty years, we can give it a try, even though our marriage wouldl be a sham.”

“Aren’t all marriages a sham?”

Yang stared down at Sun, lips drawn in a tight line.

“You get really existential when you’re drunk. I don’t know if I like that.” Yang sighed and patted Sun’s forehead with her finger. “You and I are too similar, babe. I feel like we might be too hot together, you know?”

“Can there be too much of a good thing?” Sun asked.

Yang picked up the half empty bottle of vodka and shook it, eyebrows raised.

Sun blew out his breath, laced his fingers across his stomach. “I’m so tired. So fuckin’ tired.” He closed his eyes, reached for Yang’s hand and plopped it back into his cloud of hair.

“I know, kiddo. I know.”

 


	6. Junior/Neo

_Look who's late._

Junior rolls his eyes at Neo. She's not the first person who he wants, or even expected to see perched at his bar, parasol tipped over her shoulder at a jaunty angle.

"Gimme a break, alright? I had a long night."

 _You finally got laid?_ Neo looks Junior up and down. _There's hope for us all._

Junior doesn't sign anything back to the woman except for a raised middle finger. Neo's placid gaze remains unaffected, and she turns to Junior as he hops across the bar.

_I'm not here to make fun of your dry spell, though I wish I had more time to do so. I was starting to wonder when you were gonna get lucky._

Neo pouts, and Junior does a double take.

"How'd you know about my dry spell?"

Neo shrugs lackadaisically, runs the string of charms on her necklace in a swift motion. Everything about Neo is so weirdly particular, from the even split of her hair, to the off beat seconds when her eyes change colors, and the number of shrill metal squeals that she wrings out of her necklace - four, exactly - before lacing her hands across the counter, then lifting them in excitement.

 _Everyone knew about your dry spell, dumbass._ Neo signs. _Speaking of getting lucky, Emerald got busy with the twins last night. Right on your bar._

Neo pats the counter with a gloved hand, lurid eyes glimmering with pure glee. The act of toying with him was an easy stress reliever, a sort of health benefit to her job.

_Might want to take a few extra minutes wiping this down._

Junior cries out in disgust, throws his hands up into the air and shakes them away from his body. "What the hell?! How do you know all this shit anyways?"

Neo swings her legs in amusement - she can't even reach the floor in her heels - and smiles with wet gleaming teeth.

 _I listen, Junior._ Neo taps the base of her right ear. _It pays off._

“It’s a good thing you don’t talk.” Junior sneers. “I’d have to deal with silent and verbal abuse.” Neo’s expression shifts immediately, smug satisfaction morphing into pained anger. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, lifts her hands back up.

 _I could talk, once. Before my tongue got cut out._ She looks sad, the same expression that happens across someone’s face when a melancholic memory plays across their frontal lobe. _I knew too much about everything. I was the girl that people came to if they need information. And I talked to anyone who would pay the price._

Neo blinks, and her eyes switch to transparent glass. _I got caught up with the wrong crowd. They wanted to keep me from snitching when I told them I wanted to leave._

She pauses uncertainly.

_But Cinder helped me get my revenge as long as I would keep my strengths from becoming weaknesses. It will never happen again._

Junior looks taken aback, and Neo lowers her eyes, light filtering in the gaps between her mascaraed lashes. She straightens up, shoulders angled at their playful slant once more. The mask of light leisure sets back in and she smiles glibly.

_Anyways, Cinder wants to see you. She says that there’s business to be done._

Junior nods slowly. His tongue feels like a brick in his own mouth, as rough and dry as sandpaper. Neo watches each miniscule moment of his face, and something akin to wistfulness flashes in her eyes. She stands, opens her parasol in a fan of perfumed lace and beading.

“Good day, Miss Neo,” Junior bows at the waist. He hasn’t bowed for anyone but Cinder, but it feels appropriate right now.

Neo’s teeth flicker, and he finally realizes why she always smiles with her teeth caged.

_Good day, Junior._

 

 


	7. Emerald/Cinder

“I hope the twins treated you kindly last night.”

Cinder’s voice floats from behind a changing screen, and Emerald stiffens immediately. News travels fast around the club, but usually not this fast. Emerald bites her tongue, waits for Cinder to fill the silence in that effortless way that she’s perfected over the years.

“Their more… brutish tastes are easiest to become acquainted with after a few more encounters.” The changing screen folds, painted valleys and daubed flower gardens disappearing into an accordion-like snap. Cinder tilts it against the wall next to her and makes eye contact with Emerald. She’s changed from her usual red dress to a silk robe that trails behind her. She purses her lips at Emerald.  

“Cat got your tongue?”

“N-No, no, I’m sorry, I was just thinking.” Emerald stammers, blinks dazedly. “The twins were fine; I’m a bit surprised is all. Did you hear us in the bar?” Cinder laughs, thin and sweet, waves her hand to dismiss Emerald’s worries.

“The club has many secret places that I didn’t even know about before we brought Neo in.” Cinder’s smile puts Emerald slightly at ease, but the fox like anticipation in the other woman’s eyes is predatory, sharp.

Neo.

She came as she pleased, and all the shadows that she fell in step with offered enough protection that she became Cinder’s eyes and ears before long. Emerald shuddered at the thought of the woman lurking while Melanie and Miltia pressed their mouths to Emerald’s collar.

“I always thought that Melanie and Miltia would take especially well to you. You’re easy to get along with once the ice is broken.” Cinder runs a hand through her hair, settles on the arm of the couch that Emerald perches on.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

A hand stretches across the nape of Emerald’s neck, thumbnail sinking into the flesh below one of her bones. Cinder’s close enough to smell, lily pure and smoke tinging all of her features.

“You know, Emerald, I have many weaknesses.” Cinder’s purr comes out throatier than normal. “Would you like to know two of them?” Emerald suppresses a shiver when Cinder’s other hand braces her shoulder.

“Of course.”

“The first is beautiful women,” Cinder’s nails dig into Emerald’s skin and she keeps a whimper from escaping in her throat. “The second… is wanting things as soon as they’re made unavailable to me.”

Emerald blinks rapidly, unsure if Cinder’s said what she thinks she’s heard. “Ma’am - ”

“I’m quite the fickle person, Emerald. I’m a woman in all senses of the word, you could say.” Cinder’s laugh is shy of amusement. “And I hope that you can forgive my primitive emotions, but it seems that you will always be more beautiful to me after the twins lay their claim on you.”

Emerald closes her eyes as Cinder kisses down her neck, a wet path of lipstick marks down to the halter collar of her top.

“A-As soon as you have me, then you won’t want me anymore?” Emerald whispers breathily. Cinder hums when she reaches Emerald’s throbbing pulse, fingers tilting the other woman’s jaw to angle her head slightly.

“Give it a chance.” Cinder presses Emerald down against the couch, slips her a brief kiss.

“You never know what could happen."

 


End file.
